For a Feather by Michael Haynes

For a Feather by Michael Haynes

Liana went to all the elders of the village one by one. “There are no griffins any more here in Kilarn,” she was told by each in turn. “The last of them flew away twenty years ago,” said Emara, the eldest of them all.

There was only one elder left to visit, Coben, and he could barely be considered of the village, seeing as how he lived deep in the woods to the north. But he had grown up among the villagers, only moving to the remote hut when his wife and daughter both died in the plague of the ninth year of the prior king’s reign. And he was still consulted, when it pleased villagers to do so.

“You don’t want to meet a griffin,” Coben told Liana when she explained why she was there.

Her heart beat faster at this non-denial of their existence. “But I do, Elder Coben.”

He snorted. “And why would that be? Thinking you’ll steal their gold like so many other reckless youth?”

Liana’s face reddened but she kept her voice steady. “I seek a griffin so I may barter for one of its feathers. My mother, Johna, has gone blind. And it is said a griffin feather could restore her sight. I want her eyes to light up again when they see my father or me.” She brushed a hand lightly against her stomach and thought, but did not say, that she wanted her mother to see her grandchild as well.

Coben turned away, went to his stove and poked at the wood within it. He added several small branches before facing Liana again.

“If there’s still a griffin in our land, it would be living near the top of Marten Tor. There were two there once, two who stayed when all the others left. That’s where you might find them today, if you’re lucky. Or unlucky, I suppose.”

For a brief moment, Liana was struck with the impulse to run to Coben and hug him, but she simply smiled and thanked him.

He shook his head. “It’s not a thing to thank me for. Griffins are nasty creatures. Send your father to barter, if you must.”

“My father, sir, is in no shape to climb the Tor. His legs are palsied and he does well to get around our house and our garden.”

“Fine. Then your child’s father. Oh, don’t be so surprised. You may barely be showing, but I’ve seen many a mother-to-be and know the look. Or are you going to tell me that he has stumps for hands and a gouty knee?”

Liana laughed. “I only wish that were so. The son-of-a-dungscooper realized I had not bled two months running and decided a life at sea was better than a life as a father and a farmer in Kilarn.”

“So the way you see it, you ain’t got much to lose if your griffin hunt goes bad, eh?”
She hesitated, long enough that it was an answer in and of itself.

“Well, good luck to you then, young lady.” He bent back to his fire, dismissing her. As she walked to his door, she heard him softly add, “I hope you find what you’re seeking for.”
It was too late in the day for the journey to Marten Tor. Liana went home and cooked for her parents and bathed her mother and wondered as she lay in bed and tried to fall asleep when she would feel the first little kicks from inside.

She woke with the dawn and prepared a sack with food and other things she would want for the hike to the tor. Her mother still slept and Liana let her father know that she was likely to be gone for most of the day.

“I asked Jelana to check on you and mother today,” she said.

He looked at her and at the sack she carried. It seemed there was something he thought about saying, but the moment passed and he only nodded in reply.

The day was warm but not unbearably hot and the start of Liana’s walk to the tor was easy. After some time, the main road branched off toward the capital city and she went down trails which became progressively less easy to navigate.

By the time the sun was near its apex, she was having to watch every step over rocky, trackless ground. The tor was close, but then it had seemed close for what must have been an hour. Sweat poured down her back and her breath came in ragged spurts. She wanted to rest but there was nowhere level to sit and she knew that there was a very real risk that she might not make it home before nightfall even without taking time away from her travel. So she pressed on, cursing each time her ankle twisted, hoping that she wouldn’t find merely griffin skeletons at the top of the tor.

Finally, she made it to Marten Tor and then to its top. She sat on a flat rock there and let herself suck in large lungfuls of air. She ate an apple and a few nuts and drank water from her canteen until she felt like she would burst. There was a breeze up here and she basked in it, letting the sweat dry on her skin.

When she was ready, she stood. “I come to trade!” Her shouted words, which she had expected to echo, seemed instead to be swallowed up by the rocks.

The hot air was still and silent. Liana drew breath to yell a second time and then there was a scrabbling sound off to one side. She waited, listening to see if it would come again. One minute, two, and then — yes — scraping and shuffling like old claws on rock. Liana moved in the direction of the sound, winding through the stony tumble as quickly as she dared.
When she saw the beast, she was momentarily stunned. Yes, it was taller than she, but it looked even more frail than her parents. Its eyes were cataracted, its shoulders stooped and every step it took seemed to pain it.

But if its eyes were cloudy, they certainly weren’t sightless. The griffin fixed Liana with a stare.

“I come to trade,” she said again, this time in barely a whisper.

“So you said,” the old creature said in a voice like a growl. “But what would I have that you could want?”

She was surprised, for a moment, having expected quite the opposite question. She was prepared to offer the beast anything it asked for, short of a human life, and yet it asked her what she would want of it!

“One of your feathers is all I wish. My mother has lost her sight and I will use it to restore it to her.”

Several heartbeats passed and then the griffin nodded its aquiline head. “You may take one. It has been half a lifetime since they did me any good. I would pluck it for you myself, but my claws are not agile enough for the task. They are barely up to catching what little food I eat.”

Liana went to the beast and touched its side, noticing that its skin felt oddly cold. The griffin flinched slightly at her touch. She selected a feather and with one quick jerk pulled it free. At this, the griffin did not flinch at all.

She stepped quickly away. “Thank you, good griffin. This will mean a great deal –”
“Now for my request,” it said, cutting her off.

Liana’s stomach lurched. When the griffin had simply offered its feather she had thought it was to be a gift, that there was no bargaining to be done. But now she held what she had requested in her hands and wondered what she could do if the beast were to request something she could not abide.

It gazed at her through its milky eyes. She held its stare for long moments. Finally, not turning away, she said, “What is your price?”

“Kill me.”

Liana hesitated, playing the words over in her mind to ensure she had not misheard.

“You…”

“Yes. I want to die. I have been here alone for six years since my lifemate died. She stayed here with me when all the other griffins left, stayed because I could not fly and she would not abandon me. But death gave her no choice in the matter.”

“I have no weapon,” she said after considering his words.

“I will take your word of honor that you will return.”

She could bring the sword her father had carried when he had served before her birth in the king’s army. It could be done. Liana fought the acidic, bilious nausea coursing through her and, at last, nodded. “I will return.”

“Within the week.”

“Yes.”

“Then it is done.” The griffin slowly turned around, dismissing her just as Coben had the day before. Liana also turned and began to walk away but not so quickly that she missed the griffin’s whispered words: “I wish your mother well.”

She went toward home as quickly as her body would let her, reaching the main road just before nightfall and her family home before her mother and father had gone to bed.

With all of the other ingredients ready, Liana took the feather and prepared the poultice and spread it on her mother’s closed eyes before she went to sleep.

A cry of joy from her mother woke Liana before the dawn on the next day. She was up and moving around the family home as she had before her sight had vanished and soon she had a pot of oatmeal cooking for their breakfast.

“I never thought I would see you again,” she told Liana. “And I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.”

Liana smiled, happy for her mother, but in the back of her mind she brooded on the rest of her bargain.

Each of the next five mornings Liana lay in bed until late in the day, feeling ill once more at the thought of going to kill the griffin, even if it wanted to die. Her mother and father both seemed to think nothing of her behavior; they remained swathed in the elation brought by her mother’s restored sight.

The night before the last morning of the week she had promised the griffin as she lay in bed again trying to justify either choice –- following through on her promise or reneging on it — Liana felt her child kick for the first time. When she finally fell asleep, she dreamed that she did go on the next day and kill the ancient griffin. In her dream, her child was born blind and there were no feathers with which to cure its blindness.

When she awoke, she knew what she would do. She was going to go back to Marten Tor, and she was going to tell the creature that the feather had restored her mother’s sight and tell it of the joy it had brought her parents. And she would promise it that she would return once every month with news of a blind person somewhere — the capital city must have plenty — and she would take a feather and restore its sight. And she would promise that if she even had a single month where she could not find a blind person that then she would grant the griffin its release.

It wasn’t the bargain she had made, but she hoped that it would seem a fair one to the griffin. And that it would die a natural death before she ran out of blind people.

Liana packed a bag quickly and was ready to go out the door. Her hand on the knob, she hesitated a moment. She was a woman of her word and knew not if the griffin would accept this changed bargain.

She stepped away from the door, went to a closet, and retrieved her father’s old sword.

Just in case.

—

An ardent short story reader and writer, Michael’s stories have appeared in publications including Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Nature. He enjoys photography, geocaching, and travel. He can be found online at http://michaelhaynes.info/ and on Twitter as @mohio73.